Time Out of Mind
by kitsune-bot
Summary: Sarah sometimes wondered if she had ever truly won at all. Surely victory shouldn't have left such a dull ache in her chest where she was sure her heart once rested. Perhaps he had stolen it as a final trophy, a testament to his power that she denied.
1. Parallels

Author's Rambling:

SO here I am again, writing some fanfiction to avoid doing anything productive and/ or school related. I have approximately 20 different ideas for Laby fanfic hanging around but, as it rarely goes anywhere, there is very little to show for my favourite pairing. This was written for the LiveJournal community "64_damn_prompts" (multi-fandom and any type of media, if you're interested). I plan on doing all 64 prompts as Labyrinth vignettes within the same timeline/ universe but they're not necessarily going to be in order or have any sort of over-arching plot other than: 'See Sarah. See Sarah run. See Jareth running after her." so if you're looking for a multi-chapter epic, you probably won't find it in this fic. This is really much more of a character study gone terribly awry. Well, if you've read all of this, enjoy the fic and please REVIEW!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to this work of fanfiction. If I did the original sources would have a lot more adult-type touching.

By-the-by: The poem (which I also do not own) is "Detroit Annie Hitchhiking" by Judy Grahn.

- - -

"Time; Out of Mind"

Chapter One: Parallels (and an out-of-order poem).

Prompt: #14 chess

_When she is cruel, she is very very cool_

_and when she is kind she is lavish_

Sarah often mused on how strange her life was, how wondrous and extraordinary. Usually, such thoughts were secret things that she hid even from the mirror and examined only during the darkest hours of night. However, there were odd times in large crowds in which she was overcome by the urge to grab the nearest stranger and cry to them: "I abandoned my dreams! I have seen magic - been entranced and repulsed by it in equal parts - and ultimately overcame it! But oh," she would pause dramatically, "how spectacular my dreams!" Thankfully, she possessed enough social dignity to refrain, but the temptation was there.

And so it went that the only people in Sarah's life who knew anything of Her Story - and small parts of it at best - were the two people closest to her: Toby and her best friend, Sean. There were other stories - other men - after the events of the Labyrinth, of course, but all seemed one-dimensional in comparison to the rich landscape of the first fairy-tale.

She knew it was unfair of her to compare mortal men to the Goblin King - what with his magic and tight pants and all - but even so he haunted her in the most tranquil of moments. 'This could be better,' her traitorous heart whispered, 'this could be more.' She would turn away from him then - be he Steve or John or Bryan - and stare blankly at the wall praying for a heart cruel enough to prolong the lie her life had become.

'You could be a queen,' her dreams taunted while she tossed and turned recklessly, 'you could be his queen. Just swallow your pride, Sarah. Say The Words and everything you've ever wanted could be yours.' When she woke she was never sure if it was his voice or hers that echoed these dreadful prophesies, but under the harsh light of day it was easier to hold her head high and pretend, "Yes, of course everything is alright."

However, everything was so far from alright it was completely wrong and everyday the chasm between Sarah and what she thought of as "the rest of the Aboveground" widened. Somehow, instinctively, she knew that her strange shifting emotions would be accepted, perhaps welcomed, in the ever-changing hedge-mazes and oubliettes. Even now she could hear every creature and stone calling to her, begging her to come home, but pride would not allow Jareth to rule even one inch of her and so she half-lived both on and off stage until she could bear the burden of it no longer. There was no magic to be found in-between acts that held no meaning for her and so she took very few roles and none that were anything above some silly avant-garde protest piece.

Sarah found that she ultimately did not regret denying Jareth - she was cruel, after all and what he had been offering was not truly what she desired. That was the rub: he did everything she asked in every wrong way. Fear and submission were not the way to win a girl's heart, and certainly not a woman's love, and yet he demanded them of her, as though she owed him that much, at least. There were other emotions though - half-formed and fragile to the touch - that were harder to shake and so Sarah did not try to name them. She wondered, though, how the story would have played out years later on equal footing.

And because Sarah wondered she secretly wished: she wished to see Jareth again. She wished to either overcome or be overcome by him. And because Sarah wished she dreamed.

_Her words pour out as though her throat were a broken artery _

_and her mind were cut glass carelessly handled_

Her dreams were what initially attracted Jareth to Sarah, their varied shapes and colours giving them substance even in the Aboveground. In a world so dull and deprived of magic she shone like a beacon, the power of The Words thick and crackling in the strange summer air in which he found her. She had been wearing a green dress - different than the won she wore the day she wished her brother away - and it set her pale skin and dark features off in such a way he was sure for a moment a fae creature had lost her way between worlds. Then she turned laughing to the shaggy dog slumbering a few yards away and was suddenly nothing more than a human girl in costume with flowers in her hair.

She was beautiful, of course, in a way that no girl her age had any right to be and few mortal women could boast, but her pretty features were secondary to the strange magic she wove using only dreams and words to guide her. Dreams were a powerful source of magic but that power came at a terrible price for those without the will to control it. There were many gruesome tales of those who attempted to harness such power only to be consumed by it and among the few that successfully mastered the dreamscape it was understood that a dream was a wild vicious thing that would just as soon devour its dreamer as answer his desires. Yet this young mortal commanded her dreams artfully, shaping them as easily as she breathed. With a simple word or gesture they whirled about her like leaves of every colour imagined and unimagined, little fragments of glitter and glass that cut through the air at her every whim.

Jareth would be the first to say that he was a selfish man and he coveted Sarah like a worshiper at an idol, admiring her silently from the obelisk and leaving offerings in the mores between night and dawn. Soon, she loved the labyrinth fiercely and Her Words breathed new life into land that had been stagnant for time out of mind. He watched, astounded, as his kingdom blossomed around him, encouraged by the attentions of a young girl, and he knew then he wanted that attention focused on himself. He had never imagined she would turn his own power and gifts against him, using Words to bind his heart and her damned innocent eyes his soul. He sometimes wondered if he had tried to resist the force of her call if she would have allowed it.

_Fishermen think perhaps she is a fish_

_but they're all fools. She figured out the only way _

_to keep from being frozen was to stay in motion._

Sarah dated many different men but she couldn't find the courage to fall in love or bring them home. If any of her boyfriends thought it strange that they had never seen the inside of her bedroom - let alone the unassuming vanity her mother had given her when she was young and the days were better - none commented on it. The fact was: she didn't keep any around long enough to comment on much and soon she became known as a bit of a heartbreaker but even more so as untamable.

She, of course, conveniently forgot to warn them she had been tamed - once upon a time - long before they had set their sights on her because she was cruel enough to use their adoration until she was tired of expectations. When she grew weary of the game altogether she began refusing all offers of dates and dinner and, especially, dancing because she had realized it could never compare to mornings of gold and valentine evenings.

Sarah sat broken before the old mirror and wanted to smash it with her fists and chair until all that was left was blood and splitters and little bits of dreams and glass. However, she had grown out of such tantrums long ago - in a distant land - so instead she wept bitterly before it, a devotee at her shrine, mumbling incoherent "I wish"es into the empty air.

_The common woman is as common _

_as the reddest wine._

Jareth often mused on what a pity it was Sarah rejected the initial role he offered her. He knew she understood it even then - had mouthed the lines of seduction and practiced the soft glances of a woman when she thought no one was looking - but ultimately she had been too young to truly play the part. Instead she had cast herself as the plucky heroine and he as her dark antagonist; an unyielding tormentor, a symbol for her terror and fascination toward adulthood and her own blossoming sensuality . The true irony of her victory was the price she paid in innocence in order to overcome both him and her fears.

Despite, or perhaps because of, this Jareth couldn't resist reminding her at every opportunity that there were much more interesting prizes to be wagered than baby brothers and kingdoms. Her youthful cruelty brought the latter crashing down at her feet, but he had seen the subtle widening of her eyes and felt her rapid pulse quickening with his own and knew with a smug certainty she was not wholly unaffected by him.

Jareth was entirely unashamed of his desire for her - after all, time was relative to a creature that only vaguely remembered a beginning and could scarcely imagine an end - and had she fallen for his charms he would have gladly taken everything she had to give until the was nothing left for her to offer. Eventually, having grown bored of his broken toy, he would have disregarded her like so many previous playthings.

However, the fierce light in her eyes when she cocked her head - just so- and stubbornly set her jaw drew him, moth to flame, north to south, until his fascination gave way to obsession, burning inside him like a living thing. What began as a distraction all too soon became the axis on which his entire world tipped, precariously balanced between agony and bliss. The more she resisted - the defiant curve between cheek and neck, soft lips parted in anger - the more he yearned to dominate her. Assured of his victory as she chased him through the crystal ballroom - the delicate curve between cheek and neck, soft lips parted in wonder - his heart had sang at the pleasure of it. When she tore herself from his embrace he felt the the sudden shattering as clearly as the broken dreams left in her wake.

Jareth had spoken the truth when he finally admitted she was his equal, well-matched in both cruelty and desire. And even though Sarah understood what he offered her - his fear, his love, his will - she always left with the glitter of his dreams under her nails. It was such a pity he couldn't have just seduced her and been done with it all, because loving Sarah Wlliams was driving him insane.

_And now when she smells danger she spills herself all over_

_like gasoline and lights it._

Sarah sometimes wondered if she had ever truly won at all. Surely victory shouldn't have left such a dull ache in her chest where she was sure her heart once rested. Perhaps he had stolen it as a final trophy, a testament to his power that she denied. One more thing to lord over her head.

_She leaves the taste of salt and sulfur under your tongue_

_but you don't mind._

Sometimes Jareth hated Sarah for reminding him of the heart he never knew he had. What use was giving him something she was only going to break? Immediately after he would feel guilt over his venom toward the only creature he had ever truly loved and then anger over the guilt. It was a vicious cycle.

_But she shaves her head instead _

_and goes for three-day midnight walks._

One day Sarah looked into the mirror and didn't recognize the woman looking back at her. What had once been smooth cheek with only the promise of a woman's angles now cast a subtle shadow over her stubborn jaw and long throat. Wide innocent eyes morphed to a predator's cool calculating gaze. Her skin itched with the discomfort of denial, pulled too taunt over slim frame and delicate limbs. Sarah carefully brushed her dark hair over her shoulders and leaned forward carefully to breathe against the glass's still surface until fog made her appear hazy and ghost-like in the reflection. She couldn't stand to even look herself in the eye as she finally gave one inch. "I need you, Jareth."

_You imagine her in a huge velvet hat_

_with great dangling black feathers._

"What are you looking for?" his voice was so achingly familiar her heart nearly twisted from her breast in an attempt to get to him. Sarah carefully held her composure, glad for the darkness to hide her expression - equal parts surprise and longing. She turned slowly to find him in the threshold of her room, leaning on the door-frame imperiously, the harsh back-light giving him a wicked air. She idly wondered if he had been there all along, waiting on baited breath for her to find the courage to call on him.

"Why, I was looking for Sarah-Through-the-Looking-Glass," she tilted her head as though she found him curious, "of course."

Jareth smiled, all sharp teeth and good humor. "Were you trying to find a chess partner, perhaps?" With four quick strides he was suddenly deep within her territory, crowding her with his body against the harsh plains of the vanity at her back.

"Perhaps," her chin tilted just slightly in invitation of its own violation, "I must admit I've never been very good at chess: too brash, no strategy." Sarah could feel his grin at her throat and she gasped wordlessly for a long moment before recovering. "I'm much better at mazes." His playful nip sent delicious chills coursing along her spine.

"Chess is such a fascinating game," he drawled quietly, as though he wasn't in the middle of thoroughly seducing her, "the king is confined to only move one small step at a time, while his queen," he pulled back suddenly and the intensity of his gaze in that moment was forever burned into her, "can move as far away from him as she likes." His lips brushed hers as he spoke, the long promise of a blistering summer day, hazy and languid.

"Everything she does," Sarah replied, the sleepy murmur of late mornings, twisted sheets, and tangled hair, "every move she makes, with each pawn she conquers," her hands came up to rest along the hard lines of his back and he seemed to press into every curve of her, "she thinks only of her king."

As they stumbled toward the mattress, a mess of writhing limbs and hungry lips, Sarah vaguely realized Jareth was the first man she was taking to her bed - in some ways her previous lovers had always taken her, never given - and her heart sang with pleasure.

"I love you." Jareth could only groan as he finally filled -fulfilled - her.

"I love you." Sarah could only sob incoherently into his shoulder as she finally broke apart around him like little bits of crystal and glass.

He didn't disappear under the first rays of morning that peaked through her sheer curtains and cast the scene in a hazy ethereal light. Instead he folded her carefully in his arms and silently told her about forever.

_Sometimes she goes down to the dock and dances off the end of it_

_to prove her belief that people who cannot walk on water are phonies_

_or dead._

_- - -_


	2. The Second Act

Author's Rambling:

I can't guarantee chapters will usually be posted this close together but I've been working on this particular piece for quite a while but finished "Parallels" first for whatever reason. This one is quite a bit longer and more verbose (an ironic word if I've ever known one). Interestingly enough, quite a few of these little pieces are based on Sarah's interactions with other people and their impression of Jareth/Sarah. So far, Sean is in four and I haven't even thought about some major scenes I'm planning on beyond 'hey, that should probably go somewhere' so . . . get used to seeing him around. I kind of like the kid.

There are a couple literary/poetry references in there. Have fun. As always: enjoy and please review!

Disclaimer: "Labyrinth" and anything else that you suspect doesn't belong to me probably doesn't.

- - -

"Time; Out of Mind"

Chapter One: The Second Act

Prompt: #4 lost scene

- - -

"Sarah," the tone of his voice belayed Sean's true intentions long before he got around to the root of the impromptu meeting for coffee he had called her for earlier that morning. Something in his voice promised hardships unnumbered. "I have a favour to ask you." Such favours were dangerous creatures, with sharp teeth and no leashes, more-so among friends, but Sarah was nothing if not a good friend.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, she set her cup down. It rattled loudly against the porcelain saucer but she hardly registered the tinkling sound. "What exactly does this favour entail, Sean?" she relented diplomatically.

His grin was immediate, equal parts relief and triumph, and she nearly cringed at how much he reminded her of another man - who wasn't really a man at all, but something dark and magical - in another time and place. "Do you remember when we first met in high school Sarah? I mean - I had always known who you were, of course, I saw you around - but do you remember when we first really met?" If she was surprised by his non-sequitur it failed to disrupt her thoughtful continence. The long moment of memory stretched between them and suddenly they were awkward and sixteen again. Sarah could almost feel the hot stage-lights burning at her back and when she spoke her voice echoed in an empty theatre to a secret audience of one.

"Of course," she spoke softly, "I was reciting my monologue, just messing around really - " she choked on the lie but Sean knew her well enough to understand the subtle untruths hidden in her everyday conversations.

"I saw your mother on Broadway, once," he confessed and though Sarah knew she shouldn't be surprised- Sean was an unapologetic thespian - she found the it oddly discomforting to be learning this fact so many years into their close friendship. "When I first found out who you were - who you mother is - it was strange, Sarah. Some part of me wanted to use you," he was shamed by the quite admission and went on quickly, "but then I saw you in the halls and on the stage, just floating past totally unaffected by the world yet still gracefully accepting everyone and everything." He touched her hand lightly and she had to turn her face to avoid him letting him see the tears in her eyes. "But seeing you alone on stage that day, saying those words, it was," he seemed to be searching for some line lost among the clouds, "it was the most humbling experience of my life. It was like seeing a queen and realizing she's as beautiful and wonderful as all the stories make-believe. I promised myself then and there I would see you play that part again and by then I would be good enough - as an actor and a man - to join you." He slowly moved his hand away from hers and in the bizarre too-bright afternoon light his wrists flashed like the white bellies of fish from under the dark sleeves of his linen shirt. The startling sight entranced her and she barely noticed the rough stack of papers he had pressed before her until he folded his hands quietly and waited for her reaction.

With no small amount of trepidation Sarah turned her attention to the prize before her. The pages were a startling stark white but the slightly disjointed hand-typed lettering belayed the true love and tender affection that went into the endeavorer. The tears were back with a vengeance and this time Sarah made no show and hiding how much this moment meant to her. The script was beautifully bound and in the center it spelled out her deepest fears and most secret of desires in plain precise letters: _The Labyrinth: An Adaptation by Sean O'Raigan. _In smaller print under the title was a single line of dedication: _To Sarah Williams. May you always have dreams in your eyes and glitter under your fingernails._ Sarah half-laughed and half-sobbed at the in-joke born of far too many backstage rituals and bad makeup. "Please, Sarah," Sean's voice was hoarse with sincerity, "Please be my muse through this. Please be my Sarah."

Sarah wiped her wet eyes with the palm of one hand, leaning back in her chair to avoid getting any of the salty stains on her precious gift. "Sean, I don't think you know exactly what you're asking of me."

"I know what I saw on that stage, Sarah," he insisted, passion alighting his voice, "what you do when you speak those words is more than acting - it's pure magic."

"That's the problem, Sean, "Sarah sighed wearily, knowing she would eventually relent and agree to play the part in Sean's newest and boldest endeavor. Already her mouth half-formed the words and her fingers itched to triumphantly trace each place her name appeared among the lines of the play. However, there was no way to enter into such an ordeal without Sean knowing the truth of the matter. The memory of their first meeting overwhelmed her once again and she could almost hear his question ghosting between them.

"What was that monologue?" Sarah pressed her hand against her chest, startled, and stared out wildly into the blinding stage-lights into the dark theatre beyond. The voice was masculine but the soft lilt and wistful tone seemed unthreatening and so she allowed herself to relax slightly. There was the outline of a man moving awkwardly through the seats, pausing to raise a desk, and then turning into the aisle where he was able approach her uninhibited . As he moved closer she was able to make out distinct features and found her audience was a tall boy around her own age with dirty-blonde hair and a lean build that was all sharp angles and elbows. He was dressed simply in jeans and a dark sweater but when he moved onto the stage in an easy practiced gesture his elegant leather shoes clacked loudly on the wooden floor and she knew his effortless persona was a facade: no one spent that much on footwear if they didn't care what people thought of them. However, there was an air of confidence about him that most teenagers wouldn't dare to boast and when the stage-lights caught in his hair she nearly stumbled at the effect.

"It's from an old play," she finally answered, as he was obviously not going away.

The boy looked at her oddly, as though that wasn't the answer he was looking for but shrugged and followed the path she had lain for their conversation. "What play?"

"Oh, I'm sure you've never heard of it." She wasn't sure why she wanted to keep it a secret after all this time. She wasn't even sure why she was still reciting it.

"Then I should like to," the boy smiled warmly, but there was a mischief about it, as though she were missing out on a fantastic joke. Suddenly, she was filled with the same sense of certainty she had felt upon first meeting Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus. She knew with her entire heart this boy was her friend. She knew she could trust him with her secret.

"It's called 'The Labyrinth'," Sarah almost whispered to keep the ghosts of a long-lost audience from hearing.

She had told him bits of the story over time and from them he had gleaned enough information to find the play in question and produce the work that lay so unassuming before her, but the truth was much more complicated than a fairy-tale woven in between set changes and costume fittings. "We've been friends for a long time," she began with a weary breathlessness, as though a great burden were pressing the words from her, "and I know that I haven't always been forthcoming about some of the details of my life - "

"The mystery adds to your allure," he teased gently and was rewarded with a small smile.

"Regardless," the smile faded and she took a deep shuddering breath, "there's something you need to know if I'm going to agree to this."

"Sarah - " Sean seemed at a loss, half-out of his chair in an attempt to reassure her that he didn't need to know all of her secrets in order to trust her, but her calm look of confidence in her decision stilled him. "This is the story isn't it?" he asked quietly, the pieces of the enigmatic puzzle known as Sarah bringing themselves into sharp focus. Second perhaps only to her younger brother, who could read people as easily as road-signs, Sean felt he had the clearest picture of who Sarah Williams really was under the masks and glamour of the stage. However, even he sometimes found that the gaping holes of what he did and did not know about his best friend made the picture hard to understand. "The story that answers all of the questions left unasked: why you never date even when you have a slew of men at your feet, why you avoid mirrors, why you refuse professional acting roles."

Sarah laughed quietly and the soft sound floated in the still air between them for a few moments before dissipating into a tense silence. "Yes," she admitted quietly, "it is that story. You just have to promise not to think I'm crazy when I'm done." Sean might have laughed if she had sounded like she were joking but a dread seriousness weighted her words and gave them substance.

"I promise," he made a sincere vow.

She took another long deep breath and began her story as all good stories start: "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl who was very selfish and very cruel and took a good many things for granted. Despite all of this, the King of the Goblins fell in love with the girl and gave her certain powers." Sean raised his brow at Sarah's interpretation of the play's events but otherwise did not comment and so she continued, "One night, when the girl was feeling particularly put-upon, she said The Words to wish her baby brother away. The Goblin King appeared in ernest the girl was both terrified and entranced while he offered her a crystal of dreams." Sarah made a meager mime of juggling a ball in one hand and said in a cool lilting accent, "Do you want it?" She cocked her head curiously, "then forget the baby."

"Did she accept?" Sean played along, delighted to be swept up in one of Sarah's fantastic fantasies once again. Only this time, he reminded himself gravely, this time there was much more to it than magical kings and happy endings. Sarah had said this was her story and, no matter how ridiculous it might seem, he believed her.

Sarah shook her head stubbornly. "Of course not!" she sounded terribly indignant, but Sean was well aware that, somehow, it was all a part of the telling, "What kind of sister would she be if she gave up her only baby brother for a trinket of dreams? The girl immediately retracted her wish, explaining she didn't truly mean The Words, but the Goblin King would not yield. He told her if she ever wanted to see her brother again she would have to run his terrible labyrinth and reach the castle beyond the Goblin City in only 13 hours."

"Sounds like quite a challenge," Sean interjected.

Sarah nodded empathetically. "It was," the acknowledgment chipped a bit of the fairy-tale away with the bitter hammer of reality but Sean pretended not to notice. "Despite all of her youthful flaws the girl was fortunate in that she was not only brave but also had a wonderful knack for making friends." She looked at him pointedly and he grinned. "The first she made at the gates of the great maze: a cowardly dwarf named Hoggle. When the girl fell into a dark and terrible place of forgetting it was Hoggle who showed her the way out."

"I thought this chap was yellow-bellied?" Sean asked, playing his dutiful role as both audience and commentator.

"Oh he was," Sarah admitted. "Shortly after the Goblin King appeared again to taunt them and poor Hoggle groveled pathetically. When the king set his sights on the girl she lost precious time to her stubborn mouth and his quick temper and soon both she and Hoggle were running for their lives."

"At least she got his attention."

"At least," Sarah dead-panned but Sean only smirked knowingly. "After escaping the king's wrath and making their way into the hedges there was a terrible roar. Hoggle's bravery abandoned him and, consequently, he abandoned the girl, but she continued on to find her second friend: the monstrous yet kindly Ludo. Through the king's trickery both her friends were lost to her for a short time but soon after they were reunited and three became four when the brave knight Sir Didymus joined their quest. What the girl could not know, however, was that her the first of her friends would prove her Judas." Her tone was grim but a strange half-smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"You're being a bit dramatic, perhaps?" Sean offered and Sarah grinned widely.

"Perhaps," she confessed, "at any rate, Hoggle was a coward, as we have discussed, and the Goblin King used unsavory means to cajole the dwarf into giving the girl an enchanted peach. After only one bite, she was taken by its magic. She dreamt a strange vivid dream." Sarah trailed off for a moment and she seemed to be reliving some long lost memory with equal parts desire and disgust.

"'Do I dare eat a peach'?" Sean quietly mused, "What did she dream, Sarah?" She stared silently into space and Sean began to suspect perhaps the dream was too terrible a tale to tell, a jabberwocky with gnashing teeth hiding in the mire between memory and fairy-tale.

"She dreamt of a beautiful yet macabre ballroom where everyone wore masks except her and . . . him."

"The Goblin King?" Sean seemed genuinely surprised by this and Sarah vaguely remembered that this - this dream alone - was hers and not the play's. Her most cherished of secret memories was a dance in a crystal ballroom and sometimes - late at night and only when the mirror was covered - she would take it out and admire it before carefully hiding it away in her heart. "Yes, he and the girl." Sarah's voice seemed far-off, "they danced while the world fell down around them and he promised her everything she had always wanted and had never known."

"At the risk of losing her brother?"

Sarah flushed, embarrassed to admit the truth here, for either herself or the girl. "She had forgotten about the baby among the dancers but, luckily, the clock struck twelve." As though that explained everything.

"Ah," Sean sighed sagely, folding his hands across his stomach and leaning into his chair fully, "no maiden can stay at the party past twelve. Did she lose her glass slipper, then?"

"No, more like her memory," she retorted and continued easily, pretending his flippancy didn't strike her as heart-wrenchingly familiar. "She fell out of the dream and into the wastelands. When she awoke the peach lay rotting in her hand and her mind was empty of purpose. She had no idea where she was or what she was searching for. The girl was almost consumed by her aimlessness but, just in time, she was reminded of her task and her self-constructed prison was destroyed. She was reunited with her two companions, Ludo and Sir Didymus, and the adventurers continued on their quest. When they reached the gates of the Goblin City they were met by a huge metal monstrosity that nearly beheaded our brave champions. However, dear Hoggle had been following the his friends at a distance for quite some time and, in an uncharacteristic display of bravery, he overcame his fear and destroyed the beast. Our band of heros, together again at last, entered the city and faced down an entire army of goblins to make their way to the castle."

"She made it then?" Sean seemed oddly relieved for someone who already knew the play by heart, "Her brother was saved?"

Sarah shook her head slowly, her dark hair swaying gently with her movements. "When they arrived in the throne-room it was deserted. Even the chickens were gone. However, there was only one way the king could have gone so the girl quickly promised her friends she would call should she need them."

"Why didn't they go with her? I would have!" Sean was indignant and Sarah smiled at him fondly. It was rare moments like these that he reminded her of Hoggle.

"Because that is the way it is done," she humored him and was rewarded with a dramatic huff.

"Oh, if that is the way it is done, then that is the way you must do it!" Sean said sarcastically but Sarah only laughed outright.

"Exactly," she tactfully ignored his exasperated tone. "The girl followed the only door leading away from the throne-room and found herself in a bizarre maze of infinite stairs and arches, all going in many directions at once and none obeying the laws of gravity. Both the Goblin King and her brother moved across the room effortlessly but no matter how hard to tried she could not reach either."

"Which was she trying to get to?"

Sarah raised a brow but did not elaborate. "Knowing her time was running out the girl did a very brave and very stupid thing: she jumped. And when she landed the castle and fallen and was floating around her while its king stood before her resplendent. Once more he offered her all of her dreams but this time the price was much higher."

"Higher than a baby brother?" Sean mused.

"Oh, yes," Sarah breathed and he sobered at her words. "The price was her fear, her love, and her will. If she would surrender these things to the Goblin King he promised to be her slave."

An unsteady silence followed in the wake of this quiet admission broken only by the buzzing murmur of the costumers around them like power-lines. Sean finally spoke, throwing pretense to the wind. "Oh, Sarah," he seemed torn for her, "did you accept?" She only sagged under the exhaustion of finishing the telling.

"I was just a girl then, Sean," she half-gasped and half-whispered, "even if I had known what he was offering I couldn't have given myself to him, not like he would have given himself to me, not completely. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us," a ghost of a smile hovered about her at this, but she brushed it away, "I needed time, and, frankly, so did he." There was something there, hidden in her simple explanation, that shouted at him to heed her last statement.

"So to give yourself time you said The Words?" She could hear the power of magic behind his question and knew he was no longer referring to The Words as a simple monologue.

"Yes," she confessed, "those words you heard you heard that first day we met so long ago - the words that have magic when I tell them - I spoke them to him and returned to the Above, baby brother in tow, and emotions a wreck," she smiled half-heartedly, "it was a good story though. There was even a party."

"Sarah," Sean touched her hand affectionately, a gesture too subtle to convey to heavy emotions stirred by her telling, "stories like that don't have such simple endings."

Her suddenly easy demeanor bordered on mischievous. "You're right, of course. The true story of my life is only entering act two." There was a fierce light behind her expression that begged him to ask what became of the girl and her Goblin King.

"You're not going to tell me the rest of it are you?" Sean relented, his suspicions immediately confirmed when a wide child-like grin split her features.

"Nope," she almost sing-songed and raised one brow dramatically, "you need only know the story of The Labyrinth in order to do justice to it on stage. Besides," she added triumphantly, "mystery is part of my allure. " Surprisingly, Sarah managed to hold her haughty continence a long moment before breaking down into a fit of laughter. Sean knew there was no way of wresting a secret from her when she was in such a mood but he was also aware the answers were cleverly hidden in between everything she had told him thus far and everything she had not. He need only put the pieces in order to finally have a clear view of the landscape that was Sarah Williams. However, she had secretly given him the key: if there was anything Sean understood it was plays.

"Act one: our heroine is triumphant," he reasoned, watching her smile widen as he moved the information about, trying to see where it fit, "The stage goes black and while the set changes our audience waits, enraptured, still riding the high of Sarah's victory over the Goblin King. Props shift and when the lights come up the scene is much different. Sarah is no longer the awkward teen of act one but a graceful young woman coming into her own as an actress and english major. 'How else,' our patrons wonder, 'might she have changed? Has she forgotten magic? Has she forgotten . . . him?'" Sarah shook her head, lips pressed together tightly to hold in a bark of laughter and eyes shinning with mirth. "Of course, she has forgotten neither the Goblin King nor his enchanted maze. The true question is: how have her feelings changed in the dark time of in-between sets?" Giggles erupted from her in a delicate chuckle that ended on a lilting note and the sound was so foreign in her voice it took him a moment to recognize it as smitten.

"Can't you tell?" Sarah teased as she crossed her arms and leaned toward him expectantly, the motion sending her hair pooling down around her pale shoulders. The familiar weight of the pendant she wore swayed between the dark waves like foam glittering under a gibbous moon and vaguely he realized he had not always known her to wear jewelry. However, after obtaining the odd piece, its angles too strange and sharp to really be called beautiful, he had never seen her take it off. He watched the gentle pendulum tick-tock across the porcelain of her skin of her neck and suddenly understood the scope of its meaning.

"Sarah," his voice was subdued under the harsh light of comprehension, "do goblins wear wedding rings?" He imagined if anyone overheard this comment they would find it quite absurd but Sarah was practically glowing with eager joy. She was always such an odd girl.

She leaned back again and the necklace flashed gold and silver against her breast, "Wedding rings are a strictly human tradition. However, in The Underground it is common for the couple to give one another a token to signify their bond. Depending upon their resources some gifts can be quite lavish, especially from a groom to his bride. One always wants to impress the girl he intends to wed, of course."

"Of course," Sean mused, "I wonder what sort of gifts a Goblin King could offer a girl?"

"Other than her dreams?" Sarah smiled coyly.

Sean decided to try a different route to wresting the truth from his confounding friend. "Wherever did you get that pendant, Sarah? It's quite fetching."

"An old friend." Damn, she was far too quick for him, wit sharpened by countless rows with a certain king, no doubt, but he refused to give up now. He had come too far.

"To signify a bond, perhaps?" They were chasing each other around in circles, down the rabbit hole, and straight through the hedge maze, but he knew the heart of the matter was just around the corner. One more left turn and . . .

"Perhaps," Sarah took a slow sip of her cold tea while gauging his reaction over the rim of her cup. Sean, having never learned the true value of a poker-face, looked ready to throttle her. Suddenly, an impish gleam entered his eyes and he grinned mischievously while carefully crossing his arms over his chest. Such bravado on his part never boded well.

"You're her aren't you?" his stage whisper sounded half-horrified and she imagined she could see the lightening flash across his face as a truck roared by, "you're the Goblin Queen."

Sarah almost choked on the accusation but quickly recovered her queenly grace and smiled at him chagrinned. "Almost," she rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed, "right now I feel more like the Goblin Consort! I'm so busy with school I hardly get to see Jareth, let alone spend any time with my friends in the Labyrinth!"

Sean laughed, a short barking sound that cut through the still air like a blade. "I suppose this 'Jareth' keeps you otherwise occupied?"

Sarah shot him a pointed glare but continued on her rant undeterred, "What girl gets to say she actually had a fairy-tale wedding?! He's practically planning it without me!"

"I'd certainly like to see that!" Sean was bemused in the face of Sarah's needless misery. "A wedding planned by the Goblin King!"

She groaned. "It's going to have far too much glitter." Sean only laughed harder at this and soon Sarah was smiling softly along with him, her forgotten tea clutched gently against the curve of her grin.

"Ah," Sean sighed when his laughter subsided and regarded the radiant woman before him. He had sometimes jokingly mused on her origins, going so far as to suggest she was a changeling sent to torment him but also flattering by comparing her to a fae beauty. In some strange wonderful way it made perfect sense that Sarah should be the Goblin Queen.

"Now that you know everything, you're cordially invited, of course," Sarah took one last swig before setting her cup down in a flurry of barely-contained excitement, "considering how Jareth dresses, I can only imagine the company you'll procure." She seemed practically enthralled at the prospect.

Sean gaped wordlessly. "You mean, I can visit you in the Underground?" He was already half-lost in imagining himself caught up in court intrigues and magic, all while rubbing shoulders with royalty. The fantasy itself was fairly pleasing but the opportunity to live in such a dream-world, if only for a short time, made him feel as giddy as a child.

Sarah waved a flippant hand, every measure the queen she was to be. "Yes, well, having magical boyfriend who also happens to be a king does work to one's advantages." She dropped her voice to a dramatic conspiratory whisper, "And as long as the goblins have alcohol they don't really seem to care who I invite over. They really like Toby," she grimaced, "Karen . . . not so much."

Sean wasn't sure how much more shock he could take in one day. "You told your parents?!"

"Well," Sarah had the grace to look embarrassed, "not at first. I mean, that's not really the sort of thing that comes up, is it? 'Please pass the butter and by-the-by my new boyfriend is a fairy-tale king,' doesn't really roll off the tongue, now does it?"

"What did you tell them, then?" Sean knew Robert and Karen well enough to imagine their looks of horror as they sat across from what they had previously thought of as her nice - albeit a little eccentric - fiance and learned the truth of the matter.

Sarah smiled slyly. "That we met at a play last summer while the troupe was performing in Great Britain." Sean remembered the trip as a vague whirlwind of stage-fueled adrenaline and smoke-filled pubs, but there was also the hazy outline of a man sitting next to Sarah in Glasgow during "A Midsummer's Night's Dream". When he had asked her about her mysterious companion later she had only responded with a classic Mona Lisa expression.

Sean grinned appreciatively at the half-truth of her initial explanation. "You did meet him there, didn't you? I remember: blonde hair, sharp features?"

She nodded. "Like I said: it's nice having a magical boyfriend."

"So," he prompted dramatically and Sarah was sharply reminded of him asking her about a crush she had senior year, "when am I going to meet this 'Jareth' of yours?"

She pretended to seriously consider the matter. "Vain thing that he is, I'm sure he'll be eager to coach on how to strut exactly-so and seductively menace as soon as I tell him I'm going to be in your play."

Sean tried to feign surprise at her announcement, but only managed a triumphant smirk paired with exaggerated eyebrows shooting into his hairline. "How wonderful. Be sure to invite him to opening night."

Sarah snorted magnificently. "Good lord, I'm already dreading the scandal he would cause if I didn't; he'd show up in his tightest most ridiculous pants, goblins in tow, just to drive me insane and then leave me with the aftermath in a swirl of glitter."

"And you call me dramatic?"

Sarah shook her head fondly, "You have no idea." Her eyes were distant, seeing beyond the quaint little coffee shop and the grey skies of the city. Sean let her have her silence, taking in the bright image of a woman in love thinking of her distant lover. She looked poetic, with her chin gently cupped in her hand and a small smile tugging at her lips; she practically glowed. He was so happy for her.

"Sarah," he quietly broke through her reverie, but was still startled when her gaze snapped to his. He took her hand and placed it over the script between them and together they watched the long shadows of their fingers crawl across the pages just waiting to be brought to life. For the first time since he'd known her, everything about Sarah suddenly seemed sharp and stark against the unassuming environment that held her; from the dark lines of her hand against his in silhouette, to her mysterious collection of rich ballroom gowns that she liked to pretend were from work she had done. The picture Sarah painted now, illuminated by the truth of her strange wondrous life, was intimidating in its vast scope, but the fact that she had invited him into her world remained, anchoring him to reality. "Thank you."

- - -


End file.
